Editors note: Former El Paso businessman Bob Jones wrote this letter to his family in 2011, after he had served six months in the federal prison system.

To my family,

The story I am about to tell you will, I hope, warn you and all of our loved ones and friends away from any misdeeds or illegal behavior. It is the story of my first 180 days in prison.

On my very first day, Feb. 17, 2011, I was sent directly into the "hole" (SHU Ð Special Housing Unit at private prison in Otero County, N.M), ostensibly for my own protection. The SHU is a home in hell -- a 6-by-8-foot concrete cell, no windows, heavy metal door with 6-by-14-inch flap for access. The cell had one fluorescent light fixture, which stays lit 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The prison has approximately 100 cells of problem inmates -- sick and screaming 24 hours a day.

On the second day in the SHU, I contracted E. coli bacteria from undercooked hamburger and it was all downhill from there. I became very ill with dysentery (as did other inmates in cells near me). The next 14 days were spent alone in my cell, sick, unable to eat any of the "slop" for food; only able to eat two hands filled with cereal and two half pints of milk or water, and some type of tranquilizer. That was all I had the first two weeks. They finally took me to "med." I had lost 40 pounds in 14 days. I was told I needed to eat, and then I was sent back to the hole. During this period, I did not talk to family for the next 30 days, for a total of almost 60 days.

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Finally in the fourth week, they took me out to shower in a wheelchair. I had long passed any ability to walk and was down about 80 pounds by then, still with dysentery. I passed out in the shower and had no vital signs. I was taken by ambulance to Las Palmas Hospital, where the E.R. doctor proclaimed I had kidney failure brought on by pancreatitis -- resulting from E. coli bacteria left untreated. A new hell was about to open its doors.

For the next 10 days, I was placed on an I.V. 24 hours a day -- chained to the bed at hand and feet with two guards 24 hours a day in a 12-by-12 room. I still had no contact with family, while they ran countless blood tests, scans, sonograms, etc. To no end -- they found my kidneys were all but gone, my bladder was shot, and I had "something wrong with my stomach." Back to hell, "The Hole."

I received no antibiotics and nothing changed. I did try and use the phone, but I was too weak to stand or walk. I sat in a wheelchair, and finally, after almost a month and a half, I did talk to family. I am sure they could hardly tell that it was me, weak and through tears. The next three to four weeks were the same as the first weeks -- stayed sick -- tried to eat and did a little -- rice, beans, bread, and milk.

Then, in early May, after seeing you for the first time in 60 days (seen through glass and talked through a phone) for 15 minutes, I was awakened at 3 a.m. and told I was being moved -- leaving the few letters and personals I had behind. I was then loaded with nine other men into a van and taken to La Tuna Federal Correctional Institution, throwing up all the way.

Once I was checked in, I was taken by wheelchair to my new home -- and a different type of hell in Unit 6 (handicapped unit) at La Tuna. The things that saved my life were my "cellies" (my cell mates, the other five men in the six-man cell that I was assigned to live in, a 10-by-10-foot room). These men fed me and wheeled me to the bathroom, food service (sometimes) and to the medical office. The doctor immediately diagnosed me to have a blocked bladder and I was introduced to my new friend, the catheter. Three liters of urine (10 pounds) surged out of my swollen stomach and I at least felt better.

Over the next few days, I passed out in almost every area of the prison with one of several new friends who had volunteered to push me. The only problem is that you may only move from one area to another on a 10-minute move, or "move" for short, which occurred every hour on the half-hour. There were so many times I was just "out" in the chair.

On the sixth or seventh day at La Tuna, I had lost another 10 pounds, so the doctor decided to send me to the new Sierra East hospital (very nice, but I was very sick). Upon arrival after seven hours in E.R., my kidneys failed again and they admitted me, pumping fluids into me by I.V. There were more injections, but this time, something new -- after over two months of illness and one emergency hospital trip, they started me on I.V. and antibiotics. Good idea.

Over the next 10 days, my family had no idea where I was -- no La Tuna, no hospital, no information at all. After countless tests of every type, it was confirmed that I had severe kidney damage, a "ruined" bladder, bleeding ulcers, continuous signs of pancreatitis, and a rash which had covered me from head to toe since the first exposure to E. coli.

I stayed in the hospital for 10 days, still chained to the bed and was then moved to a long-term acute-care hospital for 35 days. I was still chained, feeling a little better, but unable to walk without walker. I was able to write family and share how their love was the only thing which had kept me alive (having flatlined two times and having seen the "bright white light"). Both times I had prayed to die in the early days in the hole, but God must have some other use for me, because there I was in another hospital bed, chained with two guards.

At the end of more than 30 days at the rehab hospital, I was met by a new group of cellies, and once again I had no possessions at all; my letters, my toiletries, my clothes, all gone.

This time, I made it six days before passing out in my cell and once again, I was off to the hospital. During the next 14 days (chained to my bed), every test was redone and every new test was administered. I was given four units of blood due to internal bleeding, and it was determined I still had all of my same ailments, but my nerves in my spinal cord were not working properly, thus I was unable to walk and had a bad bladder.

So I had back surgery, where I received four new discs, four vertebra bracketed together, and several discs trimmed. Three days after surgery, I was sent back to the rehab hospital -- in chains. For the next 35 days, I was chained to my bed with two guards, 24 hours a day. Do we see a pattern here?

After 35 days, I was sent back to La Tuna for a third try, once again, to a new cell and no possessions.

I have now been back 30 days and am walking at about 50 percent. I have bad back and leg pain. I have no rehab, and am trying to get my strength back. Now I weigh 195 pounds, and look like an "old Rodney."

I have gone on too long, so I will recap where I am now. First of all, everything was wrong at first. Otero prison had uneatable slop for food, no competent health care and total lack of any common sense dealing with very sick people. The hole was insane and there was no need for me to be there. Some guards, about 25 percent of them, were "mean," especially to the disabled that were in the hole. La Tuna is far more what I expected of prison -- food, guards, management bureaucracy. The inmates are mostly men who are in prison for far too long a term for their crimes.

But no matter which prison, loss of freedom and basic personal and civil rights that we all take for granted leave us in hell. To all of my "beloveds" who read this: Do not do anything illegal. What I have learned is that we have a system that cannot wait to add another soul to this hell.

I need to say I pray constantly and am in contact with my God and his Son.

Praying for all of us and praying for me to be back with my "beloveds."